Treaty
by CycloneT
Summary: "This is totally your fault." A series of ficlets. MacStella
1. Default Chapter

  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing. 

XxX

"Stella!"

Stella jumped as Mac's voice pierced the silence and she realised that she'd did it again. "Sorry," she apologised, hopeful that the late hour would encourage him to let it go until she'd had a decent amount of sleep and a shot or three of caffeine to help her come up with a defence that he'd buy.

"I'm beginning to think that you're doing this on purpose," he accused, tired and grumpy and annoyed that yet again she'd dropped the ball.

Although technically at fault, she wasn't one to take anything lying down. Besides, she was just as tired as he was, and she could do grumpy at least as well as he did. "Yeah, because I _like_ being addressed in that tone. It's what I strive for."

"Three times this week, Stel," he reprimanded, ignoring her comment. "What else am I supposed to think?"

"I said I was sorry, Mac. What else do you want me to do?"

"How about not doing it? That would work for me."

"I'm trying," she protested. And she was, kind of. She just didn't see what the big deal was so she allowed herself to be distracted by other things and then by the time she realised what she'd done – or by the time Mac realised what she'd done, it was already too late. "I just . . . forget, is all."

"You forget and I'm the one who has to deal with it. Does that sound fair to you?"

Okay, so maybe he had a point. Maybe he was being perfectly reasonable in his request and she should just bite her tongue and cop it on the chin. Maybe.

"Look," he said, softening his tone. "All I'm saying is that if you made a bit more of an effort we wouldn't have this problem."

"I know what you're saying, and I said I was sorry. It won't happen again."

"I'd believe you but I think your record speaks for itself."

"Okay, it might happen again," she conceded. "But – "

"No, no more 'buts'. You know what you have to do."

She pictured his solution and cringed. "But they're ugly," she protested. "And I don't like the feel of them."

"And I'm tired of being shocked awake by the two iceblocks that you slide between my feet whenever you come back from the bathroom."

She decided to try a bit of flattery in the hope that he'd let it go. "You're always so warm and cuddly, Mac, that I can't help myself."

"Stella," he warned, not buying it.

"Well, you should have carpeted instead of tiled then," she retorted. "You've only got yourself to blame."

He gave up. He was never going to win an argument with her at three in the morning. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

She smiled and snuggled further into his side. "It's not my fault that my feet get cold."

Mac sighed and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Just do it, will you, Stel?"

There was a miffed silence from Stella's side of the bed before she finally conceded defeat.

"Fine, from now on I'll wear the damn socks."

End.


	2. Truce

Title: Truce  
Author: Cyclone  
Pairing: Mac/Stella  
Category: Drabble/humour Rating: K+  
Summary: This is about the sock thing, right?  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing.  
Notes: I had so much fun with 'Treaty' that I decided to turn it into a series of drabbles. They have an AU-ish quality and will definitely be fluffy and probably even a bit silly, so don't expect anything of substance. Enjoy anyway!

XxX

"Good morning," Stella greeted brightly as she exited the bathroom.

"Morning," Mac responded, barely glancing up from the paper.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down next to him at the table. She waited for him to acknowledge her presence with a kiss or a smile or _something_, and when nothing was forthcoming she pulled the paper down and frowned. "It's not good?"

"It's fine," he said, tossing her a cursory look and tried to lift it back up.

Her hand stopped him and she offered a lop-sided smile. "Mac, c'mon.  
Throw me a bone here."

"I'm just trying to read the paper, Stel."

She wasn't buying it. "This is about the sock thing, right? I said I was sorry."

"No, it's not about the sock thing."

"Then what's it about?"

"What is what about?"

"The attitude."

"There is no attitude."

"Mac."

"Stella."

"You're doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Being obtuse."

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

She glared at him suspiciously. He looked back innocently.

She glared some more.

"Can I finish reading my paper now?" he asked.

"Go ahead. I'll just sit here and watch you read."

"Okay then."

She watched him for a minute and noticed that he didn't seem to be scanning the lines. She watched for a moment more and noticed a slight crinkling around his eyes. She sighed when she realised that he'd been messing with her. "You're not pissed at all, are you?"

"I never said I was."

"Then why did you let me think that you were?"

"I can't control what you think, Stella."

"No? Then what's with the shit-eating grin?"

"I have no control over what you think – that's not to say that I don't know how you'd react to certain stimuli."

"You played me," she accused.

"'You're so warm and cuddly, Mac, that I can't help myself.' Like that little comment wasn't deliberately designed to do fuzzy things to me."

She cocked her head and blinked.

"You heard me. I said 'fuzzy'."

"I never really thought of you as the fuzzy type before," she grinned.

"I'm fuzzy," he defended.

"Yeah? What else makes you fuzzy?"

"Puppies," he said with a straight face. "And kittens."

"Anything else?"

"Socks."

"Socks?" she repeated.

"Yeah, socks."

Stella was trying hard not to laugh. "Socks make you fuzzy?"

"You have no idea."

She lost her battle and exploded in mirth. "Okay, sock man. I said I'd wear them from now on and I will. No more icy wake up calls from me."

"That's all I ask."

"Truce?" she offered with a smile that he couldn't resist.

He put the paper down and clasped her offered hand. "Truce," he affirmed, and leaned over and kissed her. "You know, I'm not adverse to those other less chilly wake up calls of yours."

"I think we can manage to come to some sort of arrangement there," she promised, and traded her seat for Mac's lap and more kisses.

End.

Want more?


	3. Reconciliation

Title: Reconciliation  
Author: Cyclone  
Pairing: Mac/Stella  
Rating: K+  
Summary: "We're not done yet, Mac."  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm only borrowing.  
Warning: Random silliness ahead 

XxX

Stella slammed the door, threw her keys on the coffee table and stormed into the bathroom. She kicked her shoes off and sat on the edge of the tub, taking a series of deep breaths to try and calm herself down. It didn't work, so she dropped the plug in the hole and turned on the water, spitting out random curses as she watched the tub fill up.

Ten minutes later the door slammed again and she heard Mac stomp his way through the lounge, the kitchen, and the bedroom, obviously looking for her. "Stella?" he called out, the frustration in his tone evident.

Two could play at that game – in fact, two had been playing at that game. All day, as a matter of fact. "What?" she barked back.

He followed the sound of her voice and paused in the bathroom doorway. She was still perched on the edge of the full tub, scowling and glaring and pouting all at the same time. At him. He sighed wearily. "Enough, okay? Just . . . enough."

"We're not done yet, Mac."

"Yes, we are. We've yelled at each other enough for today. I'm over it." He moved into the room and dangled his fingers in the water. "Now let's make up."

She stood up, incredulous. "You can't come barging into my apartment, uninvited, and expect make up sex."

"If you really wanted to keep me out you would have locked the door," he pointed out calmly.

"I did lock the door," she retorted.

He dangled his key. "Yes, but you didn't chain it."

"I want my key back," she demanded, holding out her hand.

"No."

"I'm not making up with you."

"Yes, you are."

"You think I'm that easy? That I'll just forgive and forget and throw you on the bed and have my way with you?"

"Why not?" he asked, images of Stella throwing him _anywhere_ and having her way with him dancing through his head.

"Because we're in the middle of a fight and there's a formula that we have to follow. We can't just ignore it and move right on to the make up sex. Especially since I was winning."

He shook his head. "You weren't winning. And why not?"

"Yes I was. Because that's not the way these things work."

"Were not. And why can't they?"

"I was, and because I'm still pissed at you. You haven't apologised, you haven't backed down, and you . . . are you grinning at me?"

"Just a little," he admitted, and watched as her eyes became even flintier than before.

"Why are you doing that?"

He reached out and tucked an unruly curl behind her ear. "Because I just realised that you're gorgeous when you're mad."

There was a moments silence as she digested his comment. "I can't believe I'm going to fall for that," she sighed. "But okay."

"Okay what?"

She grinned at him. "Okay, let's make up now."

"Come here," he ordered, grinning back.

She started to move closer but was stopped by his hand. "Wait – strip first."

"You're a very brave man, Mac Taylor, to give me orders after what you did," she said, unbuttoning her shirt.

"I'm a former marine – we're all very brave. Besides, what did I really do that was so bad?"

"I don't remember exactly, but as long as you promise not to do it again . . . you do promise, don't you, Mac?"

He held up three fingers and swore, "Scouts honour."

She laughed and threw her shirt at him, and then they got down to the very serious business of make up sex.

End.


	4. Ceasefire

Title: Ceasefire  
Author: Cyclone  
Pairing: Mac/Stella  
Category: Drabble/humour  
Rating: K+  
Summary: The battle sounds fade as a cessation of hostilities begins.  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing. 

And the fluff continues… Seriously. Don't say you weren't warned.

XxX

As far as make up sex went, it had been pretty damn spectacular. It had started out with the usual frenzy of needing to be as naked as possible as quickly as possible. Once that goal was accomplished they'd got down to the very serious business of showing each other exactly how sorry they were. Somewhere in the middle of his apology Stella had decided that he wasn't being eloquent enough, and had flipped him and taken control. He really, _really_ liked it when she did that, so he'd let her have her say for a while, and then effortlessly rolled her back and taken up where he'd left off.

Now they were sprawled on the bed; legs still entwined, tangled in the sheets, watching the shadows dance across the walls while waiting for their breathing to return to normal. The bath water had long since gone cold and the anger and frustration of the day had long since been forgotten.

Mac dropped a kiss to Stella's damp forehead and grinned into her hair. She was purring. Literally. He loved how she did that. He loved that he could _make_ her do that. Yep, all things considered, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. "Hey," he said softly, once they'd both recovered enough to be able to verbalise again.

"Hey," Stella echoed.

"We need to do that again."

"What, fight all day and almost kill each other, or make up? 'Cause I've gotta tell ya, Mac – I could do without the killing part."

He chuckled and kissed her again. Always straight to the point, his Stella. "Make up. The killing part doesn't hold much allure for me either."

She stretched lazily and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. There was something about make up sex that just made her feel so . . . "Yes, we do," she agreed, her thought dissipating as Mac propped himself up on one arm and began massaging her stomach in slow circles.

"Not quite yet though," he said with a wry grin.

She opened her eyes and wrapped a hand around his neck. "I'm pretty good right now, anyway."

"I am sorry, Stel."

"For what?" she asked.

"For today," he said simply.

"Oh," she paused. "Me too."

"You know, we're going to fight. We always have. But I think that we can work something out so that we don't bring it home with us."

"Like?"

"Like . . . what goes on at work stays at work?"

Stella screwed her face up and Mac resisted the urge to kiss her crinkly nose. "I was expecting something a little more substantial."

"Like?"

She thought about it and then smiled wryly. "What goes on at work stays at work?"

"Sounds like a plan," he said, and gave up the fight and kissed her nose anyway.

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you kissing my nose when my lips are right here?"

"I don't know."

"You should probably rectify that."

"I most definitely should," he agreed. And then he did.

End.


	5. Accord

Title: Accord  
Author: Cyclone  
Pairing: Mac/Stella  
Category: Drabble/humour  
Rating: K+  
Summary: "Ignore them," she said softly. "It's just you and me, Mac. They don't matter."  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing.

De fluff continues. . .

XxX

It was cold and damp in the park, and even though Stella was wearing a coat she'd taken her gloves off and she could feel her fingers numbing. "I thought you had this all planned out," she said, rubbing her hands together in an effort to keep them warm.

Mac's annoyance was evident as he replied, "I did. I do. But I'm not doing it now."

He had that stubborn set to his jaw; that oh-so-familiar jut that meant he was about to dig his feet in, but she was confident in her ability to bring him around. "Mac, c'mon," she wheedled, with what she hoped was an irresistible smile.

"No."

She faltered for a moment; maybe it wasn't so irresistible after all. No, that wasn't it. She just needed to change her tactics in order for him to get with the program. He was watching her closely, trying to predict her next move so she decided to take the offensive. "This whole thing was your idea!"

"I'm well aware of that. You don't need to point that out."

"I think maybe I do. Because I'm standing out here in the freezing cold because _you_ asked me to, and now you're telling me that I'm turning into a popsicle for nothing." She added a little pout for good measure; that never failed to bring him around to her side of the table.

"I'm sorry, Stella, but it's not going to happen."

Damn that man. When he made up his mind he really made up his mind. She put the pout away for another day and sobered up. "Are you having second thoughts?" she asked quietly.

"No. That's not it."

"Then what's the problem?"

Mac gestured to the small crowd across the path. "Stella, people are looking at us."

She looked over to where he'd pointed. "So?"

He took a step closer to her and turned his back so they couldn't hear what he was saying. "So I didn't count on an audience when I did this."

"Ignore them," she said softly. "It's just you and me, Mac. They don't matter."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "I'm the one who's on display here."

She sighed and decided to goad him a little. "Do you want me to do it?"

"No, I don't want you to do it," he snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself. I'd just like a bit of privacy, that's all."

"You chose the spot, Mac," she reminded him.

"I'm aware of that. But I didn't know that everyone we know would be here watching."

"Not everyone we know is here," she teased. "There's that guy from the second floor with the strange body odour - I don't see him anywhere."

"Not a good time for jokes, Stella."

She flashed a quick grin and reached up and stroked his cheek. "I'm sorry. But it really doesn't matter. So they're watching us - big deal. They just want to be a part of it."

"They weren't invited," he said flatly.

"You're really not going to do it?"

That damn jaw told her everything she needed to know, but when he voiced the words she didn't expect them to hurt as much as they did. "I'm sorry."

She nodded twice and dropped her arm. "Me too."

Too late, he realised that he'd made a mistake. "Stella . . . it's not that I don't want to. You know I do."

She turned away so that he couldn't see her face. Because if he kept looking at her like he really was sorry, then she'd cry. And she didn't want to cry in the middle of central park, in front of almost everyone they knew. "Right. Whatever. Another time then. It doesn't matter."

But it very obviously did. "Hey," he said, gently turning her back around. "I love you."

"I know," she whispered. "But you kinda set the scene, Mac. Then you took it all away and now I'm standing here like an idiot and everyone is looking at us."

"Ignore them," he said, as everything clicked into place. He could do this; he _would_ do this, because it was time, and it was right, and Stella expected better of him. "They don't matter. It's just you and me, remember?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. This didn't turn out like I expected."

"Me either."

"I'm an idiot," he added.

"I know."

He took the lid off the blue box he'd been holding, got down on bended knee and ignored the smirking faces of his team. "Will you marry me anyway?"

End


	6. Surrender

Title: Surrender  
Author: Cyclone  
Pairing: Mac/Stella  
Category: Drabble/humour  
Rating: K+  
Summary: "Mac, listen to me. It's done. We can't fix this and I don't have the energy anymore to keep trying."  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing.

XxX

"It's over."

"I can't accept that."

Stella shook her head impatiently. She didn't want to rub salt into his wounds, but his stubborn refusal to face the facts was beginning to take its toll. "Mac, listen to me. It's done. We can't fix this and I don't have the energy anymore to keep trying. It's better that we just walk away now and let it die with dignity."

"You can't expect me to walk away. We have something special here, Stel. I can't just give up and throw it on the scrap heap. We can make this work. With a bit more effort we can find our way back. Just give me a chance."

Stella was tired of arguing. They'd been going around in circles for what felt like hours, and she was bone weary. She'd had enough. "No."

"No? Just like that, it's no?"

"It's not just like that, and you know it. Mac, I'm tired. You're tired. We tried, god knows we tried, but it's just not working. We have to move on."

"It seems very easy for you to say that when I'm the one who . . ."

"Who what? I've been here with you, every step of the way. Don't even think about telling me I'm not as invested as you are, because you _know_ it's not true."

"I'm sorry. But I'm not the one who is ready to give up. I'm not the one who stopped believing that we could do this. I'm the one who is still trying, who still sees the potential and who . . ."

"Who can't see what the evidence is telling him," Stella finished softly.

Mac sighed in defeat. "It's really over."

"It really is."

"I tried."

"I know."

"I didn't think it would be this hard."

"Me either."

"I followed the plan. Everything should be connected. But it's not."

They stood silent for a few moments as they both lamented the loss of what could have been. Then Stella gently nudged him in the ribs and asked, "Didn't they teach you how to do this in the marines?"

Mac sighed. "No, Stella, they didn't teach us how to assemble cribs in the marine corps."

"I'd say your training was severely lacking then," she retorted.

"I'll be sure to write the commander in chief. Maybe he can include a weeklong workshop in basic training that includes flower arrangement and cake decoration."

She nudged him again, a little more forcefully this time. "Do you really think that sarcasm was warranted?"

"Yes, I really do."

"You're very testy today."

"I can't imagine why."

"I'm not maligning your manhood, Mac, I'm simply pointing out that the giant holes in your training should be addressed so that future women aren't left high and dry when their husbands-to-be can't put together a simple crib."

"Is that what you're doing? You're berating me for the greater good? How very noble of you."

"You have to humour a pregnant woman, Mac. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

"You do. Frequently."

"Well, you should listen to me."

He sighed again.

"And you really should have listened to me when I told you that there shouldn't be any screws left over."

He knew he wasn't going to win this one, but the thought occurred to him that maybe he could get in the last word.

"Stella?"

"Yes?"

"I say this with complete love and devotion, but you can bite me."

Match point. But then, "Maybe I will later, if you're lucky."


	7. Fault

Title: Fault  
Author: Cyclone  
Pairing: Mac/Stella  
Category: Drabble/humour  
Rating: K+  
Summary: "This is totally your fault."  
Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing.

Still fluffin' along!

~x~

"Damnit!"

Stella swore and looked for something to throw. Something heavy that would make a lot of noise and allow some of her pent up frustration to escape. Unfortunately the only thing that was in her immediate reach was a picture of her and Mac in a solid silver frame, and as pissed as she was her need to vent didn't include first explaining to Mac why she'd thrown the picture, and then apologising for it. She was not in an apologising mood at all. She was in a search and destroy mood, and woe betide anyone who got in her way.

"This blows chunks," she said, as she pulled herself up from the couch and walked through the kitchen.

"What blows chunks, dear?" Mac asked mildly as he added some chopped tomatoes to the salad he was making.

"Don't call me dear," Stella snapped. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"Would you prefer babe? Hotstuff? Honeypie?"

"Stella is just fine. You call me honeypie and we're heading for divorce court."

"We're not even married yet," he pointed out. "Although that's not entirely my fault. You wouldn't choose a date, remember?"

Stella shoved a carrot stick into her mouth. "I chose a date. You just didn't like it."

"It was the wrong date," he said simply.

"Mac, give it a rest, okay? I'm not in the mood to have this conversation again."

"Whatever you say."

"Don't patronise me either."

"Patronising you is the last thing I want to do."

Stella glared at him, trying to find fault in his demeanour, tone or affect, and then left the room when she could find none. Mac smiled to himself and started slicing onions. "It does merit further discussion though."

"No it doesn't," Stella called back.

"I disagree."

"Of course you do. You want it all your way, no matter what I want."

"That's not true. I'm willing to listen to your point of view."

"As long as I come around in the end, right?"

Mac didn't reply.

Stella re-entered the kitchen. "I love you, but you are one stubborn son of a bitch."

"I could say the same thing – but I won't. Please note my restraint."

"Smart man. Are you going to put peppers in that salad?"

Mac leaned across the bench to kiss her. "If you like."

"I like."

"Then I will."

"I do love you, you know that, right?"

"I do," he agreed.

"This wedding date thing isn't about that."

"I know," he said calmly, because he knew exactly what it was about. He thought it was a stupid reason to delay a wedding, but he knew how much it mattered to Stella. So he tried to be understanding, even though she was being stubborn and obstinate and unreasonable, because at the end of the day if it mattered to her then it mattered to him. That didn't stop him from wanting things to be different though, or for trying to change her mind.

"Can you see why it's important to me?"

"I can."

Stella beamed at him and leaned over to caress his cheek. But then he had to go and press his luck and said, "Can you see why it's important to me too?"

Her smile faded. "I can. But you're not being fair. You want me to compromise on something that I've dreamed about my whole life."

"It's not about the dream, Stella. The dream will be the same regardless of when it happens. So why not bring the dream closer?"

"It won't be the same. I just want a perfect day with perfect weather, a perfect dress and my perfect man."

She thought she'd finally managed to get through to him. But then he burst her bubble with possibly the sweetest thing he'd ever said to her.

"The day will be perfect for me as long as you're standing beside me."

"Damnit," she swore, as she fought back tears. "That was really low, Mac."

"Yes dear," Mac agreed, too calmly.

Stella's eyes narrowed, which was never a good sign even at the best of times, and the tears were forgotten. "I don't believe you. This is your fault anyway. If you hadn't done what you did we would have been married months ago. The very least you can do is act like a man and accept guilt."

"I don't see how it's my fault."

"How can you not see how?" she demanded. "Cause and effect, Mac. Cause and effect."

"At the very least we're both partially responsible," he disagreed.

"I can't believe you're blaming me for this," she said. "I'm the victim here, remember?"

"And I can't believe that you're blaming me."

"I can't see my toes anymore! How is that my fault?"

"If you want to know what your toes are doing, Stel, just ask me and I'll fill you in."

"That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point is that I can't fit into my clothes, I have to pee every ten minutes, my dream wedding dress is ten sizes too small and I feel like I've got a football player kicking me twenty-two hours of the day. A football player that _you_ put there," she finished with good measure.

"I seem to remember you were a willing participant in the conception," he said lightly. "In fact, if I recall correctly you were quite persuasive and vocal about my performance."

Stella thought about that for a moment. "Okay," she conceded, "So it's not totally your fault. But I'm still going to blame you."

Mac walked around the counter and kissed her. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any undue stress. "Okay, I can live with that. I suppose it doesn't really make any difference if we get married before or after the baby is born," he conceded as he wrapped his arms around her. "The important thing is –"

"That we do," Stella finished softly, and then winced as the baby gave a supportive kick. "Ouch," she grimaced, shooting him a look that spoke volumes.

"I suppose that was my fault," he sighed.

She grinned and nodded. "You know it."

End


End file.
